


The Frosting Files

by shuofthewind



Series: A Trail Of Collateral Damage (temp. title) [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Drabble, Drabble Collection, Gen, Side Story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-14
Updated: 2015-01-23
Packaged: 2018-02-21 04:33:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2454884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shuofthewind/pseuds/shuofthewind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of sidefics for <em>Operation Cupcake</em>. Some of them might even turn out to be plot-relevant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Made: Companion

“Hill,” said Phil, pleasantly, and leaned back into his seat. “I was wondering when you would be calling.”

“Less than a week as Director and you’re already breaking the law. I think even Fury waited at least two.” Hill gave him a look that he recognized from Barbados, from Cape Town, from Kiev. It was the look that said _Don’t even try to fuck with me, Phil Coulson, because I know where you sleep._ He gave her a tight smile.

“If I had asked nicely, would you have given them to me?”

“What do you think?” Hill snapped, and Phil leaned back in his chair.

“It _is_ somewhat difficult to smuggle terabytes of data out from under the nose of an artificial intelligence.”

“Would you care to explain to me why your pet project was attempting to datamine SHIELD’s old files rather than just checking the Bus? I seem to remember a very expensive holographic table being put into the lab that had full access to SHIELD’s database.”

“Agent Romanoff didn’t just dump the entirety of SHIELD onto the internet, she wiped the archive from SHIELD’s systems. The holographic table is useless. We don’t have any of our old files, none of it.” Phil let out a hissing breath. “It was the right move. Without all the old backlogs, HYDRA will have just as hard a time getting up off the ground as we are, so they’ll be a little easier to trace. Or they would be, if—”

“If you had access to the remaining files,” Hill finished. She pinched the bridge of her nose. She must have locked herself in her car, Phil thought; she wouldn’t be talking about this anywhere where JARVIS could pick up on it, and she wouldn’t be so expressive if she wasn’t certain no one else could see. There were, however, only so many times that you could share a five-foot by five-foot cell with someone without no longer giving a shit about physical tells. He was pretty sure that their current record was at fourteen. “I’m guessing Skye let you know that she’d been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.”

“That wasn’t quite the epithet she used, but essentially, yes.”

“Stark’s been too distracted with Cap in the hospital to send anyone out to Montana, but Barton’s wound tight; I can’t guarantee he won’t come hunting for you. He and Natasha are all right,” she added, without him having to ask. “They’re safe. Nat has a gunshot wound to the shoulder, but it’s Nat. She turned off all her pain receptors years ago. Barton’s going stir crazy. The only reason he hasn’t gone completely AWOL is because Lewis somehow managed to get herself targeted by a band of mercenaries.”

“Lewis as in Dr. Foster’s intern?” Phil’s brows climbed up his forehead. “I thought she was in Malibu.”

“Natasha sent the download link to Tony Stark,” said Maria. “Stark doesn’t give a shit about his Twitter account. Lewis retweeted it and wreaked merry havoc.”

“I’ve come to notice that young women with portable electronic devices tend to do that.”

Maria scowled at him. “Don’t be a brat.”

Phil smiled. “I don’t think I take orders from you anymore, Hill.”

Hill opened her mouth, and then closed it again. Not for the first time, Phil wondered why Fury had been so determined to hand SHIELD off to him. He, Phil Coulson, dead man born again, a ridiculous moralist with old-fashioned ideals and ludicrous notions of right and wrong. Infected by an 084. An alien-human hybrid. An unknown quantity. Unpredictable. Quite possibly dangerous.

“Why me?” he blurted after a moment, and Hill’s eyebrows drew together. “Why not you?”

Hill pressed her lips tight together, and kept her eyes fixed on his. “Convenience,” she said. “The new SHIELD works in shadows, chasing ghosts. It seems fitting that the new director is technically a zombie.” She shook her hair back out of her face. It was down, for once, and to see her without her hair tied back was like seeing an engineless racecar, a tigress without its claws. Inherently wrong, somehow. “Besides, I’m too obvious a choice. I’ve been interviewed by committees. My name’s all over the papers. And the world thinks you’re dead. You were the only logical choice.”

“Maria,” he said, and she looked away. “It should have been you.”

She was quiet for a time.

“I don’t know,” she said. “He’s off the grid now. Officially. No hint on any of the old channels. No explanation. Nothing.” She clenched her jaw. “The next time I see that man I’m going to punch him in his good eye.”

He choked out a laugh. “Just don’t forget to sedate him first.”

“Don’t be insufferable, Coulson,” she said, and disconnected the call. He stared at the blank screen for a moment, wondering if he ought to be having an attack of the hysterics. He felt like he should be. Then he hit the intercom button.

“Koenig,” he said. “Send May in.”

“Yes, Director,” said Koenig .

Phil shut down his laptop, and he waited.


	2. R&D&V: Companion

“Garrett, I swear to god if you don’t give me my phone back _right now—_ ”

Garrett laughed, and stuck his tongue out at Gavin as Gavin vaulted over the back of the couch. Gwen ducked before someone kicked her in the head, and turned a page. She honestly couldn’t remember the last time she’d read _The Hobbit,_ which worried her. There was the difference between being a complete and utter traitor, and just forgetting your roots for a few weeks. Or months. Or years.

Sorry, Bilbo.

“Garrett,” Mom snapped, as Gavin lunged forward and missed Garrett’s hair by scant inches. “Give him his phone back.”

“Gavin has a girlfriend,” Garrett said, in a stupid sing-song voice that reminded Gwen of a kindergartner. “Gavin has a _girlfriend_!”

Mom rolled her eyes, and fixed her earring. “For goodness sake, today of _all_ days to go mad as march hares—”

Gwen rested her feet on the floor, waited until Garrett was passing, and then hooked both her ankles around his calf and tugged. Garrett fell to the floor of the apartment with a crash, whacking his elbow on her knee on the way down, and Gavin’s phone went skittering under the couch. With a triumphant cry, Gavin seized it in both hands, checking it over for cracks or damage. Gwen untangled her legs from Garrett’s, and ignored the betrayed look he shot her.

“ _Gwen_ ,” said her mother. She lifted her book.

“Dunno what you’re talking about, Mom.”

“You _tripped_ me,” Garrett snapped, and Gwen sighed, and shut _The Hobbit_.

“I can neither confirm nor deny.”

“Garrett, stop it,” said Mom, as Garrett opened his mouth to squawk. Garrett huffed, fluffing up like a rooster, and stormed off to his room in a fit of nine-year-old pique. Gavin shoved his phone into his pants pocket and settled next to Gwen on the couch, just young enough to still want to snuggle, but old enough not to do it obviously. Mom gave her a withering look. “In future, _try_ not to settle disputes with violence.”

“I’ll say sorry once he’s calmed down,” said Gwen, and ruffled Gavin’s hair. “ _Do_ you have a girlfriend?”

Gavin wrinkled his nose, and detached himself. “You’re _gross_.”

“Is it Alyssa?” Gwen called, rolling over to watch him scuttle away. “Have you kissed her yet?”

“ _Gross_!” Gavin shouted again, and there was a tremendous crash as he slammed the door shut. Gwen grinned at her mother—Hannah’s lips were twitching without her permission—and then sprawled back across the couch, tucking her toes under a pillow. She’d just cracked open _The Hobbit_ again when her phone buzzed.

“I should be back by nine, Lynnie,” said Mom, as Gwen fumbled her phone out of her sweater pocket. It was Peter. “Keep an eye on them and make sure they don’t burn the house down? Grant should be back before five-thirty, unless—”

“—unless he stays at Raph’s house, I know, Mom.” Her mother bent down over the couch, and Gwen kissed her cheek. “Go kill it.”

“The defense won’t know what hit them,” her mother promised, and then she was gone in a haze of lily-of-the-valley perfume. Gwen waited until she heard the door click before swiping her phone open, and putting it to her ear.

“Guess what?”

Peter had to be out somewhere. She could hear chattering in the background. Gwen frowned, and resettled herself on the pillows. “Did you leave a dragon out of your calculations?”

Peter paused. “What?”

“It does not do to leave a live dragon out of your calculations, if you live near him,” she recited, and then closed her book again. “Where are you? I thought you were—you know.”

“Oh, I am.” Peter paused. “Well, sorta. I’m helping with…something.”

“Peter—”

“Fisk’s not looking for _me_ ,” said Peter. “He’s looking for—y’know. And this is important. I’m helping—well, I’m helping a lady with a problem.”

“Is that what they call it nowadays?”

“Shut up.” She laughed into the phone, wishing she could see his expression. He would be scrunching his nose at her, she just knew it. “You’re just—no. I’d rather—you’re _mean_.”

“You love me.”

“Shut up, I love you,” said Peter at the same time, and Gwen pressed her face into the pillow for a moment. She felt effervescent, like fireworks were bursting inside her. It was very distracting. _I love you_ , she mouthed into the fabric, and she thought Peter might have even heard her, even though she wasn’t brave enough to say it to his face yet. She thought he knew.

“No, I called, I have great news—you know that girl I told you about, the one who’s in trouble?”

“The one you’re _helping_?”

“Shut up,” said Peter again, but this time he was actually _buzzing_. “Yeah, that one. She’s—you’re never gonna believe this, I can’t believe this is happening, but she’s gonna introduce you to Jane Foster.”

Gwen froze.

“ _Jane Foster_.” She heard his breathing catch. “Like, _the_ Jane Foster. Gwen, did you hear? It’s so amazing, I can’t even—”

“But how would she even—”

“She had an internship, can you believe it? She _interned_ with _Jane Foster_ and she can _introduce you._ And she knows Erik Selvig and everything, it’s like—” He fluttered for a moment. “It’s like Comic-Con but with scientists which makes it _better._ ”

“You’ve never been to Comic-Con,” said Gwen, but there was a faint buzzing in her ears, and her grin felt ready to split her skull. “I want to meet her.”

“I don’t—”

“Peter.” She rolled off the couch, and seized a notepad. “Seriously. Give me an address. I want to meet Jane Foster’s intern.”

Peter paused, and there were volumes in his silence.

“Don’t make me bring out a baseball bat,” she said, and Peter huffed out a laugh.

“Fine. Stark Tower, tomorrow. Maybe after noon? There’s—we have to get some things ready first.”

“I’ll be there.”  


End file.
